


Nothing When You're Not Around

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Porn, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Older Stiles, Rimming, Younger Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn AU in which Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills and Derek falls hard.  Like, really hard.  Hard enough that he can't say no when Stiles asks to let him record them having sex.</p>
<p>A fill for <a href="http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">Trope Bingo</a>'s mini card challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing When You're Not Around

**Author's Note:**

> Trope: AU Hooker/Porn/Stripper.
> 
> Title from Client - Pornography.
> 
> Derek is younger than Stiles in this AU, but is legal.

“Stay calm,” Stiles had said. “I’ll show you what to do.”

Derek had believed him, had followed him willingly because he’d wanted Stiles so much, wanted Stiles to want _him_. And Stiles did want him, Derek thinks as he licks Stiles’ chest, Stiles’ hand firm on the back of his head, directing him where he wants him. He wanted him. Derek just didn’t know it was for this.

*

Stiles was perched on a motorbike the first time Derek saw him. His t shirt had holes in it, his jeans were artfully ripped with portions of skin peeking through and Derek had tried not to stare. He’d failed, miserably. Stiles noticed him looking and had thrown him the filthiest grin Derek had ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of. Derek knows he’d gone bright red, had felt the heat flushing through his body. Stiles laughed, winked and gunned the bike, riding off without a helmet, leaving Derek staring at him.

*

He saw him again two days later buying groceries. Laura pointed him out, told him about the kid who went off the rails after his Sheriff dad was killed in the line of duty. Stiles, she said, had almost been thrown out of the group home and only the fact that people felt sorry for him meant he hadn’t been. After he’d turned eighteen, he’d graduated, sold the house and left. Derek took it all in, every detail about Stiles utterly fascinating to him.

As if his ears were burning, Stiles looked over at them, a wicked grin on his face when he spotted Derek. Laura raised her eyebrows and pulled Derek away towards the meat counter, all the while telling him that he couldn’t go anywhere _near_ Stiles, and what would mom and dad say if they knew.

“Shut up, Laura. I don’t know him, okay?”

Laura brushed a hand over his hair even as he moved away. “I just don’t want you to get involved with something you can’t handle.”

*

Derek goes for runs through the woods near his house sometimes. The house is always filled with people and whatever Laura says, he’s not anti-social, he just needs his space sometimes. It’s only fitting that’s when he sees Stiles again. Derek doesn’t really understand why Stiles is in the woods but he is, leaning against his bike, and Derek slows down, sweat cooling on the back of his neck. Stiles is in a pair of jeans so tight Derek can practically see the outline of his cock and he’s feeling awkward and so uncool in his baggy running shorts and ancient greying t shirt.

“What’s your name?” Stiles asks.

“Derek.”

Stiles nods slowly. “You live round here?”

“Back through the trees. My whole family, we all live there.”

“Cute,” Stiles shrugs his leather jacket off and Derek’s eyes are drawn to the tattoo on Stiles’ bicep. It doesn’t seem to be anything in particular, just abstract lines, and Derek is overwhelmed with the need to lick it. Stiles catches him looking and smirks. “You like tattoos?”

“Yeah,” Derek hitches one shoulder up. “I mean, I don’t have any.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “You legal?”

Derek’s cheeks flush and he looks off into the trees. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

“Why are you still in Beacon Hills then?”

“My dad, he got ill. I’m just taking a year before I go to college.”

“You working?”

“Not really.”

Stiles toes a foot in the dirt and steps forward, the lean muscles in his arms flexing as he grabs Derek’s wrist. He tugs Derek forward and laughs when Derek stumbles.

“Sorry,” Derek says.

“Don’t be.” Stiles clasps a hand around the back of Derek’s neck and kisses him, licking at the seam of Derek’s lips until they open, Derek’s hands scrambling against Stiles’ shoulders. He’s at Stiles’ mercy, the touch of Stiles’ skin against his making his whole body heat up and he can’t help whining when Stiles pulls away. There’s a line of spit connecting their mouths, Stiles glances down at it before smiling, kissing Derek once more and letting go of the back of his neck. “Not bad, kid.”

Derek winces. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Yeah?” Stiles smirks, flicking a card at Derek. “Call me.”

Derek stares at him dumbly as Stiles jumps on his motorbike and speeds off.

*

The card Stiles threw at him burns a hole in his wallet for a days before Derek even takes it out. There’s nothing on it but a number. He picks up and drops his phone seven times before he finally taps the number in and hits dial. It rings and rings and just when Derek is about to hang up, a voice comes through the line.

“Yeah?” Stiles voice is sleep rough and it goes straight to Derek’s dick. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Derek.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.” Derek picks at a thread on his bedspread and wonders why he’s even calling Stiles. He feels like a kid next to him.

“So. What are you wearing?”

“Uh.”

“I’m joking, Derek. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just.” Derek rubs a hand over his face and goes for it. “Can we meet up?”

“Um. Yeah, sure. Got a pen?”

Stiles gives him his home address and a time. Derek ends the call and palms his cock through his sweatpants, hard since Stiles answered the call with his rough, sleep ridden voice. He drops his phone on his bedside table and grabs lube from the drawer, drizzles some on his palm and sticks his hand down his pants. Derek plays the sound of Stiles’ voice over and over in his head, thinks about their kiss in the woods, about Stiles’ ridiculous fucking tattoo and he comes, gasping for air, cock twitching in his hand.

*

Stiles pushes him against the hallway wall and practically rips his pants open. Derek’s barely aware of what’s happening when Stiles wraps his lips around the head of his cock and sucks hard. “Fuck,” he bites out, not sure where to put his hands until Stiles pulls off and grabs Derek’s hands, directing Derek to tangle them in his hair.

“Fuck my mouth,” he says before swallowing Derek down again.

The back of Derek’s head hits the wall and his hips jerk almost of their own accord. Stiles’ throat contracts around Derek’s cock and he moans when Derek pulls at his hair. Derek looks down and blinks at the sight of Stiles’ mouth stretched around his cock, he thrusts his hips forward again and again, watching Stiles not even hesitate to take it each time. Stiles gets a glint in his eyes, starts humming and that’s it, Derek is done, coming down Stiles’ throat. He feels Stiles swallow around his cock before pulling off, delicately wiping at his mouth. Derek’s hands are still fisted in Stiles’ hair and he doesn’t even notice until Stiles tries to stand up. “Gonna let go?”

“Oh, sorry.” Derek lets go, but doesn’t know what to do with his hands, letting them dangle by his side. There’s a sneaking uncomfortableness sinking in, his cock going limp between his legs, his jeans down by his ankles and his t shirt sticking to him, sweaty and gross. He’s trying to think of a way to leave gracefully when Stiles kisses him, open mouthed and filthy. Derek can taste the faintest hints of himself and it makes him feel fucking invincible.

When they make it to the lounge, he gets Stiles off with his hand. Stiles pants in his ear, licks at his neck and bites down when he comes. They’re sprawled out across the floor, Stiles is resting his head against Derek’s hip, tracing patterns on his skin while Derek rests against the couch, one hand in Stiles’ hair.

“What do you do?” he asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.

There’s a pause, Stiles’ hand stilling against Derek’s skin before he says, “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles sits up and grabs his laptop from the small IKEA table in the corner. He maneuvers around until he’s between Derek’s legs, resting against his chest. While the laptop starts up, Stiles looks up at Derek, licking his lips and Derek curls over to kiss whatever part of him he can reach. Stiles laughs and taps at the keyboard, pulling up a video file. “Remember you asked.”

Derek frowns and watches the screen. Stiles is on a couch with another guy. They’re both shirtless and it takes Derek a moment to realise he’s watching porn. That Stiles does porn. “Oh,” he says, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. It’s fucking hypnotising watching Stiles crawl on top of another guy, palming at the guy’s crotch while he slides down his body. Derek can feel his cock starting to stir and by the way Stiles shifts against him, he’s noticed. Stiles puts the laptop down and turns around, kneeling between Derek’s legs, kissing him softly, the video still playing in the background.

*

“I want to film us,” Stiles says while he’s three fingers deep in Derek’s ass.

Derek blinks and stares blearily down at Stiles. “What?”

“I said, I want to film us.” Stiles punctuates each word with tiny thrusts of his fingers, making Derek groan.

“Why?”

“Because we’re fucking hot.” Stiles pulls his fingers out and fumbles for the condom. “You’d get paid.”

“I don’t, I’ve never—”

“That’s okay. I’d tell you what to do.”

Derek groans as Stiles pushes his cock inside him, hooking Derek’s leg up and inching in, telling Derek how fucking beautiful he is, how fucking hot he’d look on tape. As he bites his lip and stares at Stiles above him, his eyes are drawn to the flex of Stiles’ bicep beneath the ink of his tattoo, the sweat beading on Stiles’ forehead. Stiles feels so fucking good inside him and he’s gazing at Derek, waiting for the nod to tell him he can move; Derek gives it, and Stiles starts fucking him, his balls smacking against Derek’s ass with each thrust. Derek throws his head back, letting out a groan as Stiles licks at his neck, hips rolling in a constant rhythm that makes Derek want to scream. He’s biting at the skin on Derek’s neck, his teeth almost pressing down hard enough to break the skin, and Derek can’t be sure he doesn’t want that to happen. Can't be sure he doesn't want Stiles to make him bleed, make him scream, make him _his_. Stiles sucks at the bite mark and reaches a hand between their bodies, grasping Derek’s cock, working him in tandem with his thrusts. Derek’s floating the edge of pleasure as Stiles works his teeth across Derek’s neck before he twists his wrist, flicking his thumb across the head of Derek’s cock as he bites down and Derek comes hard, Stiles fucking him through it. The slip slide noises of their bodies echo in the room, Stiles’ thrusts getting more erratic and there’s a low whine in the back of his throat as he pushes in one last time. Stiles lets out a loud moan when he comes and Derek can’t stop staring at the way his mouth falls open, soft and pink.

*

“So what do you think?” Stiles asks later, trailing his fingers across Derek’s chest, dipping into the grooves of his muscles.

“About?”

“About the filming.”

Derek’s quiet, not sure what to say. He wants to please Stiles, wants to keep being able to do this with him and if he says no, he doesn’t know what will happen. Stiles is pressing soft kisses against his chest, working his way down Derek’s body. “What would I have to do?” he asks. Stiles looks up and smirks, raising an eyebrow and Derek flushes. “I mean, I know what I would, but how would we—”

“It would just be you and me,” Stiles says. “I’d set up the cameras in here and we’d film it ourselves. We can watch it together afterwards, I’ll edit it and put it online.”

“And people could just watch it?”

“People who have a subscription to the site,” Stiles laughs, biting Derek’s nipple. “Unless your parents have a particular interest in gay porn, they won’t find out.”

Derek runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair, tugging at the ends like he knows Stiles likes and watches as Stiles’ eyes flutter shut. It gives him a small spark of power, being able to control Stiles’ reactions like this. Makes him think he’s almost on equal ground with Stiles. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly. Stiles grins widely and he slides up Derek’s body, kissing each bit of exposed skin.

*

Derek sits on the bed and watches Stiles set up the cameras. He’s wearing a pair of Stiles’ jeans, the rips stretching across his thighs. Derek twists a hand in the sheets and runs his other hand through his still damp hair. They’d showered together beforehand, Derek on his knees for Stiles, water washing Stiles’ come off his face. Stiles had shoved him against the shower wall and jerked him off quickly. “Just to take the edge off,” Stiles had breathed hotly in his ear.

“You good?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah.”

“Slide up the bed a little,” Stiles says from behind the camera with a smirk. Derek does as he asks and stares at the wall, his cheeks flushing as Stiles lets out a low whistle. “You look hot like that,” Stiles says, stepping forward and resting one knee on the bed, cupping Derek’s face with his hands and kissing him softly. Derek runs his hands up Stiles’ arms, his fingers tracing Stiles’ tattoo. Stiles pulls back and rubs his thumb against Derek’s cheek and Derek leans into the touch. “Okay,” Stiles says quietly. “I’m going to turn the cameras on. I’ll talk a bit, you can say what you want, and then we’ll start.”

“Will it look okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me. I know the angles, I’ll move you where I want you.” Stiles smirks and runs a hand up Derek’s thigh. “You good with that?”

Derek nods, sucking a breath in when Stiles palms his crotch with a wicked grin before he turns around and walks away, Derek’s eyes following him as he switches the cameras on. He comes back to the bed and perches on the edge, looking over his shoulder at Derek. “Come here,” he says and Derek obeys, crawling towards Stiles. He kneels behind Stiles and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck. Derek’s body is already heating up and he knows there’s a red flush on his cheeks. He smiles against Stiles’ skin when Stiles threads their fingers together. “Ready?” says Stiles.

“Yeah,” whispers Derek.

Stiles looks up at the camera and licks his lips. “Hi, I’ve got a new face with me today—a very pretty new face—and it’s his first time on camera so we’re going to be gentle with him.” Stiles taps Derek’s arm. “Say hi, Derek, let everyone see you.”

Derek lifts his head to look at the camera, feeling slightly intimidated, he manages to say hi before Stiles turns his head and captures his mouth in a sloppy kiss. It makes his entire body relax, kisses from Stiles are familiar now, and he lets himself enjoy the feel of Stiles’ tongue sliding against his as Stiles’ hand trails up the back of Derek’s neck and squeezes lightly. Stiles detangles himself from Derek and stands up, turning to face a different camera. He reaches a hand out to Derek, hiding a grin when Derek almost stumbles off the bed in his haste to chase Stiles’ skin. Stiles subtly pushes Derek into position, his side to the camera as he nuzzles the side of Derek’s face, whispering “Trust me,” in Derek’s ear. Derek nods almost imperceptibly and a groan escapes from his lips when Stiles traces his hands down his chest, undoing Derek’s jeans with a flick of his wrist.

Stiles grasps the back of Derek’s head and directs Derek’s mouth towards his chest, opening his own jeans and spreading his legs slightly. Derek licks at Stiles’ nipple and gazes up at him to see Stiles looking at him, pupils blown wide; Derek rubs his cheek against Stiles’ skin until Stiles moans, his hand moving to Derek’s shoulder, softly pushing him down until Derek is facing his crotch. He tips Derek’s face up with one finger, bends over to kiss him before he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Derek flushes and presses open mouthed kisses at the skin above Stiles’ boxers, slipping his fingers in the waistband and pulling Stiles closer.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles says when Derek’s fingers dig into his flesh.

Derek lets go, rocks back on his heels and closes his eyes when Stiles rubs a thumb against his bottom lip. He sucks it into his mouth, opening his eyes to see Stiles’ eyes widen slightly before his thumb slips from Derek's mouth. Stiles shoots him a wicked grin. “Want something else in there?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, licking his lips as he watches Stiles shove his boxers down to expose his cock.

“Open your mouth,” Stiles says hoarsely, holding his cock with one hand. Derek swallows and leans forward, Stiles brushing the head of his cock against Derek’s lips. He licks his lips, catching the pre-come smeared across them, his mouth watering, and in that moment Derek forgets that there are cameras on him, all he wants is Stiles.

Stiles teases him, pushing the tip of his dick in Derek’s mouth before removing it. He does that again and again until Derek lets out a needy noise he’s not sure has ever come out of his mouth before and Stiles smirks, holds his cock steady and lets Derek take it in. He’s greedy for it—Stiles tells him so—and his eyes water the more of Stiles he takes in. Derek’s concentrating so hard on making this good, doing it _right_ , that when he pulls off a little, licking around the head, he’s surprised by Stiles tugging him to his feet. Then Stiles is kissing him, shoving his hand down Derek’s boxers and wrapping a loose fist around his cock; Derek pants against Stiles’ mouth, the back of his neck hot. Stiles leans back a little and meets Derek’s eyes as he jerks him off slowly, Derek wants to look away—he feels too open, too raw—but he can’t.

“Take off my pants,” Stiles says, taking his hand off Derek’s cock. Derek’s fumbling fingers push Stiles’ jeans down his slim hips, his firm thighs, until they’re pooled around his ankles. Stiles pulls them off, his boxers following, and stands with his legs wide, cock hard, still slick from Derek’s mouth. “Now you,” Stiles says, turning him around to face a camera. He undresses Derek from behind, hands skimming over his ribs before he reaches the waistband of Derek’s jeans. Stiles mouths at his neck, pushing the jeans down, taking the boxers with them, sucking at Derek’s neck when he hisses at the head of his dick getting caught on his boxers.

Derek’s dimly aware of Stiles bending down behind him, moving his feet and throwing the discarded clothing in a corner of the room. He shivers when Stiles places an open mouthed kiss against the back of his thigh and he turns his head, attempting to see what Stiles is doing. Stiles stands up quickly, kissing the back of Derek’s neck before moving him until he’s bent over the side of the bed. “You good?” he asks, smacking Derek lightly on the ass.

“Fuck,” Derek yelps. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Stiles kneels on the floor and pushes Derek’s thighs apart, rubbing his stubble against the soft skin of Derek’s inner thigh. Derek lets out a loud moan when Stiles licks at his hole, he can feel Stiles’ face right up against him, Stiles’ hands holding his ass cheeks so he can get his tongue every-fucking-where. His head flops down on the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as Stiles flicks his tongue against Derek’s opening before pulling back and spitting, using his fingers to spread his saliva around. Derek swears loudly when Stiles’ tongue starts prodding against his hole, firm and insistent. It’s gorgeous torture, there’s sweat beading across his body and he can’t decide if he wants to press back against Stiles’ hot, sweet mouth or push his hips against the edge of the bed, use the friction to get off. The decision is taken away from him when Stiles pulls away and tugs at his hips, making him turn over.

Derek runs his hands through his hair as Stiles looks him over, swallowing hard when Stiles licks his lips, laughing when Stiles leans over him, trailing a hand up the inside of his thigh. “Ticklish?” Stiles asks, smirking when Derek nods. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling above Derek, Stiles’ ass brushing against his dick, and Derek sucks in a breath as Stiles rubs his hands up Derek’s chest, his long fingers flicking against Derek’s nipples, the heel of his palms a firm pressure that Derek didn’t know he wanted until now. Derek’s entire body is an open nerve, every touch from Stiles making him itch and he’s sinking into Stiles until he can’t tell where the boundaries between them are.

Stiles curls over him, kissing him deeply and Derek doesn’t give a shit about where Stiles’ tongue last was. “I want to ride you,” Stiles mutters quietly against Derek’s lips. “It’ll look good and it’ll feel fucking amazing.” He locks eyes with Derek, questioning, and all Derek can do is nod dumbly, his brain short circuiting at the idea. “Good,” Stiles kisses him softly. “Slide up the bed a little and play with yourself while I check the cameras.” He licks Derek’s cheek and climbs off the bed.

Derek runs a hand down his body and cups his balls, watching Stiles adjust the cameras. Licking his free hand, Derek grips himself at the base of his dick and strokes a few times, eyes on Stiles as he grabs lube and a condom from the bookcase. Stiles climbs back on top of him, ass resting against Derek’s stomach, taking Derek’s hand he opens the lube and coats Derek’s fingers, tugging lightly on his hand until Derek takes the hint and reaches around. Flattening himself against Derek’s chest, Stiles whines and pushes his ass backwards as Derek traces his fingers lightly against his hole. The desperation clear in Stiles’ actions, Derek bites his lip and pushes his finger in, groaning at the feel. They’ve done this before, Derek opening Stiles up, Derek fucking Stiles, but not like this. Not on camera, not with Stiles riding him, and he’s totally overwhelmed.

It takes Stiles biting on his nipple for Derek to move up to two fingers and when he does, it's like his whole world has been torn down to just this. All he knows is the feel of Stiles’ sweat slick skin against his, the obscene sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of Stiles, and each loud moan spilling from Stiles’ mouth. Stiles mutters against his neck, tells him to use another and Derek obeys, gasping out loud when Stiles swears and pushes back against his hand, Derek’s wrist is starting to ache and he can feel lube trickling down his hand.

“Ready to fuck me?” Stiles says, shifting a little on top of Derek.

“Yeah,” Derek says, removing his hand, looking up at Stiles, his dick twitching at the sight of Stiles’ flushed skin. Derek runs a hand down his body as Stiles climbs off him and feels around for the condom, holding it up victoriously when he finds it, a goofy grin on his face that Derek hasn’t seen before. It takes years off him and Derek feels something inside him melt at the sight.

Stiles kisses Derek’s hipbones before he gets the condom out of the wrapper and slides it down Derek’s cock, smearing a thin layer of lube over it. He squeezes lightly and Derek groans, his body shuddering. Stiles lets out a low chuckle and climbs on top of Derek, sliding his ass back against Derek’s cock, his eyes fluttering shut when Derek reaches around and holds his dick steady for Stiles to lower himself onto it. Derek’s watching Stiles’ face, the red flush on his cheeks getting darker as he inches himself down, his mouth open, tongue darting out to lick his lips. It gets intense when Stiles is fully seated, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, his hands pressing against Derek’s chest for leverage. Derek locks eyes with Stiles and something in his stomach drops at the look on Stiles’ face. He’s so _open_ , and Derek hates that anyone watching the video will see this look when all he wants is for that look to belong to him and him only.

Derek tries to put that thought out of his head, which is easy when Stiles braces his hands on his chest, lifting his hips, thighs tensing as he holds himself steady for a moment before slamming back down. Stiles’ ass clenches around him and Derek brings his knees up, bracing his feet on the bed; Stiles slipping forward, his hands falling to Derek’s shoulders, kissing him deeply. “Go for it,” he says against Derek’s lips. Derek groans and grips Stiles’ hips, slowly starting thrusting up into Stiles. With each thrust, Stiles’ body jolts and he drags his mouth across Derek’s face, hot breath hitting Derek’s skin.

Sweat pools in the hollow of Derek’s throat as he slams up into Stiles, the muscles in his legs and ass burning with effort. Stiles is sprawled across him, his cock rutting against Derek’s skin each time Derek thrusts up, a low whine in his throat. Derek loves every second of this, his balls slapping against Stiles’ ass, Stiles’ hands twisted in the sheets, the sheen of sweat across Stiles’ tattoo.

“I want—fuck,” Stiles says in a low voice. “Put your legs down, let me up, okay?”

Derek lets his legs stretch out, his calves dangling off the bed, groaning when Stiles sits up on his knees, cock heavy between his legs, pre-come beading at the head. Stiles rolls his hips and lifts himself up slightly, hands braced on Derek’s body, fingers ghosting across Derek’s nipples. He rocks back down, tiny shallow thrusts that have Derek needing to push his hips up, wanting to fuck Stiles as hard as Stiles has fucked him. “Stiles, I can’t. _Please_ ,” he says, hands wrapping around the delicate bones of Stiles wrists.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Yeah, okay.” He climbs off Derek and gestures for him to move up the bed. “Sit up,” he says.

Derek holds the condom at the base of his cock and sucks in a breath when Stiles wraps himself around him, legs flung around his body, Stiles’ dick pressed between them. Stiles groans when he sinks down on Derek’s cock, rocking forward and swearing when his dick rubs against Derek’s skin. His hands rest against Derek’s shoulders, pushing himself up and falling back onto Derek’s cock. Derek leans forward, the layer of sweat over Stiles’ tattoo too tempting for him and he drags his tongue across Stiles’ skin, lightly biting down when he reaches Stiles’ shoulder, grinning when Stiles whines. Stiles starts to move faster, his body rocking into Derek’s lap, hands scrambling against his sweaty skin. Derek feels the familiar tightness in his balls and swears, his hands squeezing Stiles’ ass, holding him in place as he drives his hips up, trying to hold himself inside Stiles. “Close?” Stiles says, tipping Derek’s head up with his fingers. Derek nods, not sure he’s able to find words.

Stiles lifts himself off Derek with a groan and kisses Derek as he takes the condom off. He falls backwards on the bed and tugs at Derek gently until Derek climbs on top of him, ass resting against Stiles’ thighs. Derek moans when Stiles wraps a hand around his cock and he reaches out for Stiles’ dick, his thumb smearing pre-come around the head. They lock eyes and Stiles smirks, working Derek expertly until he’s panting, hips stuttering forward into Stiles’ tight grip until Stiles twists his wrist and Derek comes, spunk spilling over Stiles’ hand, dripping onto his chest. Stiles lets go of Derek’s cock and runs his hand down his chest, smearing come across his body until he reaches where Derek’s hand is loosely wrapped around his dick. Derek looks up when Stiles’ hand joins his. “Go on,” Stiles says, lazy smile a contrast with his blood flushed, leaking cock.

Derek drags his hand slowly up Stiles’ dick, hiding a smile when Stiles restlessly shifts underneath him, attempting to shove his hips up. Stiles gets a glint in his eyes, smirks and tightens his hand over Derek’s grip, starting to move their hands together over his cock, his body taut beneath Derek. It doesn’t take long for Derek to give over to Stiles, letting him move his hand however he wants it, captured by the sight of Stiles edging closer to losing control. There’s a low, guttural noise from Stiles as he makes Derek tighten his grip, shoving his hips up as far as he can with Derek still on top of him and comes, legs jerking, neck thrown back.

Sweat and come pools on Stiles’ chest and Derek stares, letting go of Stiles’ dick and tracing his fingers through the mess. Stiles groans and reaches his hands up, tugging at Derek’s arms until he falls forward, meeting Stiles’ lips in a sloppy kiss.

*

“You want to watch it before I upload it?” Stiles asks him days later, hands roaming across Derek’s naked body.

Derek shrugs. “Is it good?”

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles grins, biting at Derek’s hip. “I wasn’t wrong, we look hot.”

“I don’t know.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, crawling up his body until he’s splayed out against him, hips pressed together. “Trust me. I’m a professional.”

Derek laugh quickly turns to a groan when Stiles licks at his neck, sucking a mark that he knows he won’t be able to hide later. “Yeah. Okay.”

Stiles lifts his head and grins, kissing Derek’s chin before he rolls over and leans off the bed, stretching his arms out to grab the laptop from the floor. Derek scoots up and rests against the headboard, Stiles sitting next to him, crossing his legs and balancing the computer on his lap.

“You know if you don’t like it, I won’t upload it, right?” Stiles says when Derek slumps down a little to rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. Derek nods, but doesn’t say a word, not really sure what to say. Stiles tangles their fingers together and squeezes Derek’s hand. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly. He buries his face in Stiles’ skin when Stiles hits play and sends the video full screen. It takes him until Stiles’ introduction finishes playing before he looks up, and he’s struck by what he sees when he does. The footage isn’t perfect, not like some of the porn he’s seen online, but it’s not awful amateur shots either. It’s kind of... hot, and Derek never thought he’d think that, but watching himself kissing down Stiles’ chest, seeing the look on Stiles’ face on screen is a thrill he’s not had before.

He feels his cock start to stir when he sees how _needy_ his face is as he sucks Stiles’ dick on camera. “Oh,” he says softly as he watches himself being rimmed by Stiles.

Stiles turns his head, kissing Derek’s hair. “This is my favourite part,” he tells Derek, and Derek feels his skin heat up. He twists the fingers of his free hand in the sheets like his screen self is doing and groans when he watches his ass pressing up into Stiles’ face. “You like it?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Stiles says, a wicked grin on his face as he pulls their joined hands onto his crotch. Derek sucks a breath in, the combination of Stiles’ hardening cock beneath his hand and the sight of himself opening Stiles up on camera making his dick fill with blood. He turns his face into Stiles’ shoulder and shifts, his dick twitching in the air.

“Stiles,” he whines, unintentionally mirroring the tinny sounds coming out of the computer speakers.

“Yeah, I got you,” Stiles says, detangling their fingers, licking his hand and gripping Derek’s cock, slowing stroking it to full hardness. Derek looks down at where Stiles’ dick is poking up against the computer, the video still playing, and he turns his body into Stiles’ grip, dislodging the computer and trailing the tips of his fingers along Stiles’ cock. Stiles groans when he does and that spurs Derek on, he spits on his palm and reaches back down to grasp Stiles’ dick. He lifts his head, his mouth immediately captured by Stiles in a messy kiss.

They lazily make out, bitten off moans echoing around the room as they jerk each other off, the video all but forgotten. Derek doesn’t _care_ anymore, his entire world has thinned down to him, Stiles and sex. Watching the video is hot, but it’s nothing compared to the reality of Stiles’ hand on him, Stiles’ swollen lips pressing against his. Stiles nibbles at Derek’s bottom lip, pressing a finger just beneath the head of Derek’s cock and Derek lets out a muffled cry, coming across Stiles’ hand. He kisses Stiles desperately, willing to give up breathing to keep the taste of Stiles in his mouth. Derek can feel Stiles’ body starting to tremble, he twists his wrist on an upstroke and swallows the strangled groan Stiles lets out when he comes.

Stiles pulls his head back, resting his forehead against Derek’s, breathing heavily and Derek’s eyes are drawn to Stiles’ wet, pink lips as he releases Stiles’ cock. He flexes his hand and sucks a breath in when Stiles grabs his come covered hand and brings it up to his mouth, licking Derek’s hand clean. Derek feels like he can’t breathe, his chest tight as Stiles’ tongue sweeps along his fingers. It’s like he’s falling, and he knows he’s going to crash into the ground, but he just doesn’t _care_.

“Fuck,” Stiles says quietly before he kisses Derek.

*

“Where have you been vanishing to?” Laura sneaks up behind Derek as he sits on the porch.

“What?”

“You’ve been going out,” she says as she sits next him, stealing the last handful of chips from the open bag on his lap. “Not coming home. Mom and dad have noticed.”

“They can talk to me about it, then.” He crumples the empty bag between his hands and stares out at the preserve.

Laura knocks her shoulder against his. “Or you could talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Derek,” Laura sighs. “Would you just talk to me? I know you’re staying over with someone, but you’re not seen in public with them. You’re even more taciturn than usual and, Der, I’m worried, okay? You’re my little brother—stop groaning—and, just tell me you’re not in trouble.”

Derek glances at her and shrugs. “I’m not in trouble.”

“But you are seeing someone?”

“Yeah,” Derek can’t control the small smile on his face. “Yeah, okay, I am.”

“And?”

“And I like him.”

Laura’s eyes narrow. “Who is he? I have a horrible feeling that I already know, but humour me.”

Derek looks down at his hands twisting the chip bag. He lets go and the bag drops onto the step. “Stiles,” he whispers. “It’s Stiles.”

“Oh Derek.”

“Don’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Laura says lightly as she gets up, her hand resting on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing before she lets go and heads back inside.

Derek looks out at the trees until his phone goes off. It’s Stiles.

*

“Hi,” Stiles says, pulling him into a kiss. Derek falls into it, his hands slipping under Stiles’ t shirt, searching for soft warm skin. He pushes Stiles against the wall and feels a small thrill when Stiles lets him do it. Stiles presses a firm kiss against Derek’s cheek and grins. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We’re a hit. The video, it’s popular. More popular than anything I’ve done before.”

“Oh. That’s good?”

“Yeah, yeah, Derek. That’s amazing.” He kisses Derek, pushing him slightly until Derek hits the opposite wall. Stiles’ hands are hot against his skin, pushing Derek’s shirt up, fingers skimming up his chest until he reaches Derek’s nipples. He kisses the hinge of Derek’s jaw and something inside Derek aches. Laura’s right, he’s completely in over his head here.

*

“I had an idea,” Stiles says, pushing the pizza box towards Derek.

“Okay.” Derek takes the last slice of pizza and raises his eyebrows at Stiles before he bites down. There’s a warm feeling in his body when Stiles laughs and rolls over, resting his head on Derek’s thigh.

“How do you feel about jerking off on camera for the site?”

Derek swallows his pizza and looks down at Stiles. “I—I don’t know.” He places a hand on Stiles’ head, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t have to do it, there’s just been a lot of interest in you,” Stiles says, turning his head and kissing Derek’s skin. “A solo video would keep people happy.”

“Is that the only reason you want me to do it?”

“What do you mean?”

Derek sighs, absentmindedly tugging at Stiles’ hair. “I don’t understand what we’re doing.”

“We’re—Derek, come on.”

“Don’t do that,” Derek says. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking. All we do is stay here and have sex. We don’t go out, we don’t do anything except have sex.”

“I thought you liked having sex,” Stiles says, his body totally still, his head still resting on Derek’s thigh.

“I do. Why is it weird that I want to do something else?”

“Because it’s a small town.”

“So?”

“So,” Stiles rolls on his back and looks up at Derek. “People have long memories. You must’ve heard the stories, right? No good son of the Sheriff? Kid who played on the sympathy he got from his dad’s death until people finally got sick of him?” Stiles reaches up and grazes his fingers across Derek’s skin for a moment. “You’re a good kid. I didn’t think you being seen with me would be the best idea.”

Derek captures Stiles’ fingers before they drop and kisses his knuckles. “I don’t care about that.”

“Your family will.”

“They trust me.”

Stiles lets out a bitter laugh. “They won’t trust me.”

“Stiles—what is this? Really? Are we dating? What’s going to happen when you leave?”

“I don’t plan my life, Derek.”

“That’s not an answer,” Derek says quietly, letting go of Stiles’ hand, pushing him away. He stands up, a lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he reaches for his pants, pulling them on as fast as he can. This is what he should’ve expected, he was stupid, it was just sex. He knew it was just sex and he—whatever. Derek scoops up his t shirt and looks around for his sneakers. Stiles is still on the floor, blankly staring at the ceiling and not moving. “I’m going,” Derek says, pulling his sneakers on. His socks and underwear are nowhere to be found, but fuck it, he just needs to leave. Derek glances at Stiles once more before he turns and heads to the door.

“Derek,” Stiles says in a hoarse voice. “Wait, please.”

Derek pauses and rests his forehead against the door. “Why?” He can hear Stiles standing up, pulling his jeans on. There’s a shuffling noise behind him and then Stiles’ palm is resting against his shoulder. “Stiles—”

“Don’t.” Stiles wraps an arm around Derek’s waist and presses his face against Derek’s neck. “Please, just let me.”

“I can’t do this,” Derek says, his eyes fixed on where Stiles’ hand is splayed across his stomach. “Not like this.”

“I want you.”

“But not like I want you to want me.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone like that. I don’t know how to do it.” Stiles’ breath is hot against Derek’s neck as he talks, and Derek has no idea what to do.

“Could you?”

“Could I what?”

“Want me like that.”

Stiles unwinds himself from Derek and steps back. Derek hates that he feels the loss of contact so deeply; he takes a deep breath and turns around, folding his arms across his chest to stop himself from reaching for Stiles.

“I want to want you like that,” Stiles says eventually. “Is that—will you stay?”

Derek closes his eyes and almost hates himself for not being brave enough to look at Stiles. He can feel the heat radiating from Stiles’ body and his fingers twitch with the need to touch him, to lose himself in Stiles all over again. “Why do you want me to do the video?”

“Because—because you didn’t judge me when you found out what I do. Fuck, Derek, you joined _in_. That was. I couldn’t understand why you would do that.” Stiles’ voice is quiet and Derek has to strain to hear him. “You were so fucking gorgeous on camera, you make me not want to shoot with anyone else. Only you. Always you. I want to follow you around with a camera and film you all the time, and I _know_ that makes me sound like a creep, but fuck—Derek will you look at me?” Stiles touches Derek’s arm. “Please,” he says.

“Stiles,” Derek says, opening his eyes to find Stiles closer than he was before. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I could want you like that, I think I’m on my way there.”

“What are you going to do when I leave for college?”

“Where are you going?” Stiles asks with a small smile.

“Berkeley.”

“Would you—I could come with you?”

“What?” Derek frowns at Stiles.

“If you want me to,” Stiles shrugs, stepping closer to Derek. “I can work from anywhere, I only came back here to sort out the things I ran away from before.”

Derek unfolds his arms and lets himself touch Stiles, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ neck, pressing them down when he feels Stiles’ pulse race. “ _Stiles_ ,” he breathes out. He watches as Stiles’ pupils dilate before he moves his hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling him forward until their lips meet. It’s achingly gentle, not like any kiss they’ve ever shared before, and Derek can’t help the small whimper that escapes from his mouth as he strokes his fingers against the nape of Stiles’ neck. Derek pulls back, kisses the corner of Stiles’ mouth and tucks his face in Stiles’ neck, enjoying the feel of Stiles’ skin against his.

“Does this mean you want me to come with you?” Stiles asks, slipping his hands underneath Derek’s t shirt.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Derek pauses for a moment. “And I want to do the solo.”

Stiles’ hands go still where they’re stroking Derek’s skin. “You do? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a quiet voice. “If you don’t want to be involved with what I do—”

“No, I do. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll want to do anything else, but this. I want to do it.”

*

Derek fiddles with his sleeve and glances down the street, a little unsure about whether Stiles will actually come. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Stiles wants to try this, wants to make an effort, but this is the first real date they’ve ever had. He leans against the wall by the restaurant and closes his eyes, slipping his hands into his pockets.

The rumble from Stiles’ bike hits Derek like a lightening bolt and he opens his eyes, a small smile on his face when he sees Stiles pull up and park. Everyone on the sidewalk stops and stares as Stiles climbs off his bike and walks over to Derek.

“Hey,” Stiles says with a smirk, leaning in to kiss Derek, his hand resting against Derek’s hip. “Everyone still staring?” he asks, nuzzling against Derek’s neck.

Derek glances up through his eyelashes. “Yeah, they are.”

“Hmm.” Stiles steps back and takes Derek’s hand, tugging gently. “Let’s go be normal,” he says teasingly. Derek follows him in the door of the restaurant, their hands clasped together tightly. “Reservation under Stilinski?”

They’re shown to a table in the back, it’s quiet and intimate with candles on the table. Stiles shakes his head when the waiter asks if they want to see a wine list and Derek flushes slightly, feeling so ridiculously young. “You good?” asks Stiles, reaching across the table and squeezing Derek’s hand.

“Yeah.”

“Because I’m nervous as shit.”

Derek laughs, ducking his head when the waiter comes back with menus, placing a jug of water on the table. He waits until the waiter has left before he looks back up at Stiles. “Seriously?”

“You know I haven’t done this before.” Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand and pours them both a drink. “I had to go out and buy this blazer. Didn’t think they’d take too kindly to the leather jacket.”

“It looks good,” Derek says, grinning at Stiles before he examines his menu. “Laura picked my shirt out for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Didn’t think you’d need help to look that good,” Stiles says, shrugging. “You know what you want to eat?”

“Uh, yeah,” Derek says, distracted by Stiles’ foot sliding up his calf. He glances around the room as Stiles signals the waiter. It’s not like he minds, it feels good, almost normal. If only because he really can’t imagine Stiles sinking under the table and blowing him in the middle of the restaurant. So it’s just... a touch. A casual touch that means more than any of the fucking they’ve done. Once they’ve ordered, Stiles sits forward a little, his foot resting against Derek’s ankle.

“So,” Stiles says. “Your sister helped you dress tonight?”

“Not like—she walked by my room when I was getting ready.”

“What’s she like?”

“Laura? She’s like any sister, I guess.”

Stiles takes a sip of his water and shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. It was only ever me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles fiddles with the cutlery on the table. “I had friends, I mean. Scott was almost like my brother, but after.” He looks up and meets Derek’s eyes. “I wasn’t a good person after my dad died. The only reason I wasn’t kicked out of school and the group home was because they felt sorry for me. Scott and I... I was bitter, I guess. That his mom wouldn’t take me in, I didn’t understand why. Looking back, there were probably legal things, but.”

“You felt like he let you down.”

Stiles nods. “Left after graduation and never came back. Didn’t keep in touch with him, or anyone.”

“Is he still in Beacon Hills?”

“Don’t know.”

Derek takes in the way Stiles is hunched in on himself, how his eyes have started darting away from Derek, and his heart hurts for him. He reaches over and touches Stiles’ hand gently, smiling when Stiles flips his hand over and links their fingers together. “If you want to ever—I’d be there.” There’s a small smile on Stiles’ face in response and Derek likes that, likes that they’re sharing something that feels real. He wants this with Stiles, wants to make a relationship between them work, and this is the first time he’s really felt like it could.

“I don’t know if I could. This, me now? This is me trying to be a better person. When I left Beacon Hills I.” Stiles waves his other hand. “You would not want a relationship with that person. I wouldn’t want a relationship with that person.”

“I like who you are.”

“I’m a work in progress,” says Stiles as the waiter brings over their starters.

*

Three days after the dinner, Derek’s on the couch in Stiles’ apartment in his underwear, a dark blue sheet beneath him. His legs are spread with Stiles between them, the camera focused on Derek’s hand caressing the bulge in his tight boxer briefs. Stiles has been trying not to speak too much, but his lips are bitten red and his pupils are already blown wide.

“Take it out,” Stiles says quietly. “Slowly.”

Derek smirks down at the camera and slowly pushes the waistband down, the head of his cock peeking above it. He ghosts his fingers over it as Stiles follows the movement with the camera, exposing more of himself moment by moment until he shifts his ass up and pulls his underwear off. Stiles is biting at his bottom lip, tiny sighs escaping from his mouth as he watches Derek lazily run a hand down his cock.

“Show me what you do.”

Derek nods and glances to the side, making sure the lube is in reach. “Yeah,” he breathes out, scraping his nails up his own thighs, the small hint of roughness making his cock twitch. He trails one hand through the coarse hair surrounding his cock and reaches for the lube with the other, flicking the lid open and drizzling some into his palm. Stiles’ eyes lock with his as Derek slowly slicks his cock, groaning at the feel of the cool wetness against his skin. It’s never hard for him to get off, but he wants to take his time with this, with Stiles watching him and not able to touch him. There’s power in it, and Derek’s starting to become addicted to that feeling.

He cups his heavy balls with his free hand, lightly tugging at them while he jerks himself in a comfortable rhythm. Stiles is staring at the camera screen, watching each shot, and the idea that everyone will be seeing what Stiles is seeing sends a thrill up Derek’s spine. Twisting his wrist, he slips a finger against his hole, just a light pressure, a tease more than anything. The muffled groan that threatens to spill from Stiles’ mouth is reward enough and Derek tips his head back, smiling at the ceiling.

“You like that?” Stiles asks, his voice shaking. “Would you want to get fucked on camera?”

“Maybe with the right person,” Derek says, his rhythm speeding up as he gets more desperate, more needy. Making a fist around his cock, he fucks up into it, closing his eyes and letting his mouth drop open. He can hear Stiles’ stifled groans and Derek can’t imagine the picture he makes, legs spread wide, slumped down low as he shoves his hips up into his hand. His free hand plays with his balls, occasionally going lower to tease at his ass, just enough to get his body excited at the _promise_ of more. It’s getting too much, the familiar tightness starting to make itself known. Derek starts getting sloppier, his jerking hips stuttering off rhythm, and he comes hard, spilling across his hand, stray drops hitting his chest.

“Fuck.” Stiles pans the camera up Derek’s body until the camera is fixed on Derek’s face. Derek smirks into the lens and Stiles switches the camera off, dropping it on the couch as he kisses Derek, climbing onto his lap and pressing their bodies together.

*

Derek lets himself into Stiles’ apartment and looks around. He’s not early, he’s right on time and Stiles should be here, waiting for him. “Stiles?” he calls as he walks through the apartment.

“Bedroom.”

When he reaches the bedroom, Stiles is standing in front of his mirror shirtless, holding up two different shirts. “Hey,” Derek says, placing his hand at Stiles’ back and kissing his neck. “What’s taking so long?”

“Which shirt says ‘I’m not a porn star who recorded your only son having sex and put it on the internet’?”

“Oh, the blue one,” Derek says with a grin. “That’s definitely the less porn star of the two perfectly normal shirts.”

“Ass.” Stiles stares at his reflection and pouts a little. “This is important. Why aren’t you nervous?”

“Because you’re nervous enough for both of us.”

Stiles turns around to face him. “I don’t want them to hate me.”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that. If they find out what I do, what I did with _you_ , they’ll hate me.”

“They’re not going to find out.” Derek takes the shirts from Stiles’ hands and hands him back the blue one. “Put this on, or we’ll be late.”

*

“So, Stiles,” Laura says as Derek helps clear the table. “What do you do?”

“Freelance online stuff,” Stiles says with an easy smile. “Nothing that interesting.”

Derek hands the plates off to his dad in the kitchen before sitting back down next to Stiles. “It really isn’t that interesting,” he says. “He’s told me about it.”

“If it’s online you can do it anywhere, right?” Derek’s mom says.

“Uh, yes.”

“Then when Derek goes to Berkeley?”

Stiles glances at Derek before answering. “I was going to go with him.”

“I asked him to,” Derek says, looking at his mom. “I want him to come with me.”

His mom makes a thoughtful noise. “And you’d be living together?”

Derek nods, reaching over and taking Stiles’ hand. This is the real test, if his mom and dad really don’t want him with Stiles, their plans for Berkeley will never fly.

“Mrs. Hale?”

“Talia, please.”

“Talia,” Stiles says quietly. “I know you probably remember what I was like when I left this town, after my dad died. I’ve changed, I’m still changing, and Derek’s been a big part of that. If you don’t want me around your son, I understand, but I do care for him.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand and leans into him, their chairs already ridiculously close. “I care about him too, mom. And I want him to come with me.”

“I can see that,” Talia says.

“We’re not jumping into this,” Derek says. “We’ve talked about it. I know I should’ve introduced you to Stiles before springing this on you, but we—we had things to work out.”

“Derek, you’re an adult. I’m not going to stop you from moving in with your boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

Laura laughs at his surprise, and Derek glares at her. He didn’t seriously think his parents would object, but if they had, it would’ve been hard for him to go ahead knowing they disapproved. Stiles squeezes his hand and Derek looks at him, feeling his face softening as he does. He hears Laura snorting and it’s easy to ignore her with Stiles looking at him the way he is.

*

Stiles rests his head in the crook of Derek’s neck, idly stroking a hand down Derek’s chest. “Want to try something?”

“Why do you always ask me this when we’re in bed?” Derek asks fondly.

“Because it’s always about something we could do in bed.” Stiles kisses Derek’s shoulder and sits up, crossing his legs and looking down at Derek. “You wanna hear it?”

“Sure,” Derek says.

“69ing.” Stiles trails a finger up Derek’s bare thigh. “You suck me while I suck you.”

“Yeah?”

“You like that idea?” Stiles asks, crawling on top of Derek, running his hands through Derek’s hair and tugging slightly.

“I could be persuaded,” Derek whispers, his lips brushing against Stiles’, hands fixed on Stiles’ waist.

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh,” Derek mutters before he slots their mouths together, tongue diving into the heat of Stiles’ mouth as they kiss. It gets sloppy quickly, wet and desperate, open mouths panting against each other, Stiles grinding down against him, and Derek can’t wait until they’re alone in Berkeley, until they can be together all the time. Stiles laughs against his mouth as Derek flips them, blanketing Stiles’ body with his own, rutting against each other lazily, cocks hardening between their bodies, Derek running his hands all over Stiles’ skin. He sucks at Stiles’ bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth and nibbing until Stiles groans, until Stiles grabs at Derek’s shoulders, pulling him so close Derek feels like he’s sinking into him.

Stiles stretches out underneath Derek and tilts his head back, swearing when Derek takes the hint and licks up the wide expanse of Stiles’ neck. “God, Derek.” He shoves his hips up and lets out a whine. “The 69ing will be academic if we carry on like this.”

“Okay,” Derek says, resting his mouth against Stiles’ neck. “Okay.” He rolls off Stiles and turns his head to look at him, enjoying the sight of flushed skin across Stiles’ chest, likes knowing he’s responsible for it. “How do you want to...?” Before he can finish speaking, Stiles has twisted his way down the bed until he’s on his side, head near Derek’s crotch, hands tugging at Derek’s thigh until Derek rolls onto his side.

It’s not easy, Derek realises as he noses against Stiles’ balls. The angles are awkward, but when he feels Stiles’ mouth against the head of his cock, he groans loudly, sticking his face into Stiles’ groin and inhaling deeply. Derek licks along Stiles’ dick, tracing the veins with his tongue, Stiles’ muffled moans around his cock adding to the sensations flooding his body. It’s almost as intense as the first time Stiles fucked him, he’s aware of _everything_ ; the way Stiles’ blunt nails dig into his thighs, Stiles’ soft tongue circling his cock. Derek runs his hands along Stiles’ skin and sucks him down, the head of Stiles’ dick hitting the roof of his mouth.

Derek can’t help but pull off when Stiles starts to hum, he wraps a hand around Stiles’ dick and uses the saliva already there to guide his strokes, his jaw dropping open as Stiles’ mouth takes him in deeper. Stiles’ hands scrabble at Derek’s thighs, pulling him closer, his fingers digging into the flesh. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Derek whispers as he comes in Stiles’ mouth. He takes a moment to regain his breath before he rolls over, pushing Stiles down into the mattress and wrapping his lips around Stiles’ dick. There’s little whimpers spilling from Stiles’ mouth and it drives Derek on, his hand around the base, working Stiles as he sucks and licks, enjoying the way Stiles writhes beneath him.

“Gonna—Derek, fuuuuuck,” Stiles groans, his thighs jerking underneath Derek’s hands as he comes. Derek pulls off, letting Stiles’ spunk hit his mouth, spill over his hand. He can’t stop staring at Stiles, his flushed lips, sweaty hair, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

Licking his lips, Derek crawls up the bed and presses himself against Stiles, head resting against Stiles’ tattoo. “You were right,” he says quietly, throwing his arm around Stiles’ chest.

“I was?” Stiles says in a hoarse voice. “About what?”

“Us. This.” Derek presses a kiss against Stiles’ skin. “We can do this.”

*

“Are you packing these?” Derek holds up a pair of Stiles’ jeans that are more holes than denim.

Stiles pouts and takes them from him. “Yes. They’re special.”

“Really?” Derek raises an eyebrow and folds his arms.

“You wore them when we made the video,” Stiles says, taking a step closer to Derek. “That makes them special.” He smiles at Derek and kisses him quickly.

“Hey.” Derek grabs for Stiles and presses their mouths together, licking at the seam of Stiles’ lips until he opens his mouth with a groan. It’s hot, just this side of dirty, and Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, holding him close. Stiles sighs against Derek’s mouth before he pulls back slightly and Derek chases his mouth, kissing him one more time before resting their foreheads together.

“This isn’t getting packing done.”

“Yeah.”

“And if you want me to come with you, I really need to pack or else we’ll lose the apartment.”

“I know,” Derek says, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Hey. It’s just for a week. Derek, look at me. I swear I’m not going anywhere, except to Berkeley to set up the apartment, to set up our _lives_. Okay?”

Stiles’ eyes are wide, and Derek can feel his heart thumping against his chest. He trusts Stiles, he does. It’s been hard work, but Stiles isn’t the same person he was when he arrived in Beacon Hills and Derek _knows_ that. “Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Okay.”

“Then are you going to keep helping me pack?”

“Only if I can distract you as well.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, leaning in a little, brushing their lips together. “That I can work with.”

*

It’s a long week. It’s a really long week. If Derek didn’t already know that he never wants to be apart from Stiles, the week apart confirms it. Laura alternates between laughing at him and stroking his hair when she finds him sitting on the couch, staring into space.

“Can you tell me in hours how long it is until you stop being such a sad sack?”

Derek glares at her and slumps further down into the couch. “Is there a reason you’re here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Dad gave me the day off. Something about his only son sitting around moping?”

“I’m not moping.” It doesn’t ring true, even to his ears. Derek sighs and glances at Laura who has an unusually sympathetic look on her face. “I miss him,” he mutters.

“I know,” Laura says, patting his cheek. “Did I tell you how pleased I am it worked out for you?”

“No, you’ve mostly been making fun of me,” Derek says, laughing when Laura punches his arm.

“I’m your sister, assface.”

Derek’s about to respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. “It’s Stiles,” he says when he pulls it out. “I’m just going to...” He waves a hand at Laura as he walks off. “Hi,” Derek says, answering the phone with a smile on his face.

*

“Honey, I’m home.”

Derek laughs from his desk and turns around on his chair to see Stiles toeing his boots off by the door. “You really like saying that, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Stiles says as he walks over to Derek, sliding his hands up Derek’s thighs, ducking his head to kiss him. Closing his eyes, Derek sinks into the kiss, enjoying the soft feeling of Stiles’ mouth against his. “Hi,” whispers Stiles, a small smile on his face, climbing onto Derek’s lap, the chair making a protesting noise at their combined weight. Derek places his hands on Stiles’ hips, holding him steady as Stiles leans forward, pushing his face into Derek’s neck, his toes dragging on the floor.

“How was work?” Derek asks.

“Okay,” Stiles says against Derek’s skin. “Shot with Isaac.”

“Did you eat afterwards?”

“Got invited to go for dinner with Isaac and the guys, but I wanted to come home.” Stiles sits back a little, his face open as he looks at Derek.

Derek smiles at that, his fingers slipping under the hem of Stiles’ t shirt and stroking the warm skin there. They’ve been in Berkeley for almost two months now, and they’re making it work, even if sometimes Derek doesn’t understand how. He likes that Stiles still works because he knows it’s Stiles’ choice. Derek has enough family money that if Stiles wanted to quit, he could and they’d be fine, but he doesn’t want to force Stiles to do anything. “What do you want to eat?”

“You,” Stiles says with a laugh.

“That’s cute,” Derek smirks, rubbing a hand across Stiles’ stomach and snorting when a rumble echoes from it. “Go look at the menus and pick something. Order for me.”

“You don’t mind what?” Stiles asks as he clambers off Derek’s lap.

“You know what I like,” Derek says absently as he turns back to his computer, frowning at the screen. He sighs when Stiles ghosts a hand against his neck on the way to the kitchen, his skin tingling. Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever stop enjoying when Stiles does that, the times where Stiles touches him just because he can, because he wants to. It leaves Derek speechless because it’s so unlike how they started. Not that he regrets how they started, he loves everything that happened between him and Stiles because it’s how they got _here_ , how they took the first shaky steps on the road to a life together. But now they can be on the couch together watching television, his feet in Stiles’ lap, Stiles with his hand around Derek’s ankle, slowing tracing the bones and Derek doesn’t have words for how much he loves that.

*

Derek wakes up to Stiles’ lips wrapped around his cock. “Jesus fuck, Stiles,” he croaks out.

Stiles pulls off long enough to say “Happy Birthday,” before he swallows Derek back down, and it’s all Derek can do not come right then. He reaches a hand down and lazily strokes Stiles’ hair, trying not to thrust up too much. It’s messy, hot and _amazing_. Derek groans when Stiles’ hand cups his balls, playing with them as he sucks and licks at Derek’s cock. He’s got no idea how long Stiles was blowing him before he woke up, but he’s not going to last much longer.

“Stiles—fuck,” Derek manages to stutter out before he comes so hard his vision whites out, head thrown back against the pillow.

“Like that?” Stiles asks, resting his head against Derek’s thigh.

“No, never wake me up like that again,” Derek laughs as Stiles clambers up his body, sprawling out on top of him.

“That’s just the start,” Stiles says before biting down lightly on Derek’s collarbone.

“I have class,” Derek says with a groan.

“One class. You can blow off one class, especially on your birthday.”

Derek places a hand against Stiles’ neck and squeezes. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me and I’ll think about blowing off my class.”

“Well,” Stiles says, inching up Derek’s body until they’re face to face. “I think I can do that.” It’s a soft kiss, stubble rasping against skin, morning breath studiously ignored in favour of pressing closer against each other. Stiles’ forearms are bracketed around Derek’s head as they kiss, his fingers twisting random strands of Derek’s hair, occasionally tugging lightly. When Stiles pulls back, he rests his forehead against Derek’s and smiles. “Did I persuade you?” he asks.

“You always do.”

*

“You know what today is?”

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles where he’s sprawled across him, sheets tangled around their legs. “Thursday?”

“No. Well, yes.” Stiles traces his fingers across Derek’s chest. “It’s the first time we kissed.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. Two years ago today.”

“You called me kid,” Derek says, grinning when Stiles’ cheeks flush at the reminder.

“You were a kid.”

“You were an idiot.”

Stiles brushes a hand through Derek’s hair, looking down at him. “I was,” he says, leaning down and kissing Derek quickly. “But I was bright enough to want to keep you.”

“Still want to?” Derek asks quietly.

“Always,” Stiles says, his face as serious as Derek has ever seen. “Always. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, cupping Stiles’ face with one hand. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://likeairplanelights.tumblr.com).


End file.
